


Interlude: Still Life With Bleached Blond

by elaine



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley can't get what he wants, but he'll take what he can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: Still Life With Bleached Blond

"He knows about us. I'm sure of it." When no answer was forthcoming, Wesley paused in the unbuttoning of his shirt and looked over at the bed.

The naked figure held its deliberately erotic pose for a moment longer, then lifted a languid hand to its mouth and drew deeply on a cigarette. "So what? Who cares what that poofter thinks?"

"Well, I do, obviously." Wesley reflected that he should have known better than to expect sympathy, or even understanding from Spike. Ignoring the complete lack of interest shown by his companion, he continued to worry at the memory like a Xargnor demon in heat. "He  _sniffed_  me! And then he said..."

"I  _know_  what he said. You've told me at least six times." Spike blew out a long streamer of smoke. "Are we going to shag or aren't we? 'Coz if we aren't I've got better things to do." He stubbed out the cigarette in the half full ashtray.

"All  _right_." Wesley threw out his arms in a gesture of helpless surrender. He must have been crazy to start this... this...  _relationship_  with Spike. But if he couldn't have Angel and, increasingly, he couldn't, then he might as well have the next best thing. Angel's grand-childe. "You could have told me he'd be able to smell you on me."

"It's a stupid parlour trick." Spike sniffed scornfully and stretched out, linking his hands behind his head. His eyes narrowed as he watched Wesley continue with his undressing. "If he's pulling that stunt he's an even bigger wanker than I thought."

" _Spike_!" Wesley got the name out through gritted teeth. "We have an agreement, remember?"

"We do?" Spike tilted his head and pondered. "Oh... you mean the one where I don't insult His Ponciness, and you shag me." The vampire grinned and arched his body suggestively. "Fine. I won't say another word."

"Good." Wesley eyed him suspiciously for a moment. It wasn't as though either of them was going to leave this room without having sex first, but there was a principle at stake. Perhaps he should try the offensive for a change. "You never did tell me what you were doing at Caritas."

"Didn't I?" Spike held his eyes for a long moment, then shrugged. "It's a happening place, Caritas is. Wouldn't be seen dead any place else, now, would I?" He spoke the words with careless insincerity.

Wesley admitted defeat. Chip or no chip, the essential Spike hadn't changed. There was no doubt, however, that Spike was incredibly attractive, or that Spike was well aware of that fact. Shorter and slimmer than Angel, his whipcord lean muscles moved easily beneath even paler skin. He had no more body hair than Angel, which seemed to bear out Wesley's theory that it was a vampire thing. One that he, personally, found rather arousing.

 _Very_  arousing, actually. He unzipped the black leather jeans and allowed them to slide down his legs.

Spike's eyes widened and he whistled softly in admiration "Going commando are we? Who's a naughty boy, then?"

"You don't know me as well as you think you do." Pleased with Spike's reaction, Wesley strolled towards the bed. He swung his leg across to kneel, straddling Spike's muscular thighs, and touched his cock lightly. A human cock in this state of arousal would be flushed dark with blood. Whatever vampires did to become erect didn't involve blood, and therefore Spike's cock was a marble hard, marble pale column. Wesley teased at the foreskin, gently stretching it out beyond the tip of his cock and rolling it between his fingers. He grinned at Spike's response. "I  _do_  like a man with a foreskin." 

"Yeah? I prefer a man who knows what to do with one, me." Spike's eyes glittered as Wesley slowly lowered his head. "Oh, that's  _good_...."

It was all Angel's fault, really. The taste of vampire sex, the feel of cool flesh under his hands and in his mouth and body; it was all dangerously addictive. His own body heat now seemed to Wesley to be crude, outlandish. Vulgar.

But Angel had been so unresponsive lately. Wesley had worried helplessly as Angel had slept away the days and spent his few waking hours distracted and moody. Moodier than usual. Today he'd dropped the bombshell that Darla was somehow alive again. Wesley didn't want to believe Angel, but he couldn't entirely discount it either. And Wesley knew, better than anybody except the pair in question, what Darla and Angelus could do together. 

The question was, would Angel allow Darla, if it  _was_  she, to draw out the darkness that always lay just beneath the surface of his personality. A few weeks ago, Wesley would have vehemently denied that it was possible, now he wasn't so sure. Angel had been dreaming about Darla for weeks. He'd said so today. Yet he hadn't told Wesley about it until he'd been forced to. Wesley could only imagine what those dreams must have been like.

"Oh,  _yes_!" Spike's increasingly vocal expressions of pleasure distracted Wesley from his dark thoughts for a moment. He smiled around the thick cock and squeezed a little with his fingers. Spike relaxed again with a groan. 

He'd found Spike in Caritas three nights ago, trying to sell his body for a glass of A positive. It hadn't taken long for them to find a motel room – it was out of the question to go back to Wesley's flat, not even Angel had ever been invited in there – and something about the mindless, emotion-free sex had eased the pain of Angel's silent, careless, rejection of him. The knowledge that Spike was bound to leave Los Angeles shortly was Wesley's emotional safety net. It was, perhaps, the perfect relationship.

Spike's hips bucked, thrusting his cock deep into Wesley's throat. He rode it out with the ease of long practice, then drew his head back. 

"You're not gonna stop now?" Emotions flickered over Spike's face, calculation foremost among them. "Whatever it was I did, I'll make it up to you, honest."

"I'm not going to stop." Wesley stretched out atop the vampire, rubbing his cock against the slick coolness of Spike's. They didn't kiss. It would have been pointless, and besides, Wesley hated the taste of cigarettes. His father had tasted of cigarettes, though they'd been of better quality than the cheap brand Spike smoked. "Don't you like this?"

"Oh yeah. It's nice." The casual tone was belied by the hot glint in Spike's eyes. "You can do  _that_  all you like."

Wesley simply smiled. Sex was easy. It was the kind of relationship he had with Angel that was incredibly difficult. Angel didn't love him either, but he cared. He _liked_  Wesley, and that was what made the current situation so damned painful. Angel  _couldn't_  love Wesley, wouldn't even try to love him. It was a given, something Wesley could accept and deal with. But now Darla's intrusion, whether real or imagined, was disrupting the precarious balancing act that was Wesley's relationship with Angel.

Spike was moving restlessly again, and Wesley sat up. "Hold still." _  
_  
"Christ! I was just about to..." Spike deflated at a stern glare and watched Wesley resentfully from under his lashes.

There was no pulse, no hint of life in the thick cock beneath his fingers. Wesley stroked up the length of it, lingering at the tip to explore the partially exposed cockhead. Beneath his arse Spike twitched, but his legs were trapped by Wesley's weight. Wesley eased the foreskin right back and bent to lick the moist glans. 

Vampire ejaculate, he'd ascertained on a whim one night, contained no sperm, which probably accounted for the difference in taste. He liked the taste, but not enough, tonight, to allow Spike to come in his mouth. He squeezed Spike's cock with ruthless fingers until Spike winced and lay still.

"Are you just going to sit there till I come from sheer boredom?" Spike pouted and sulked. "If I'd known we were going to have  _this_  much fun..."

"No, I'm going to do this." Wesley shifted his grip on Spike's cock and poised himself over the exposed head. He slid down onto it with a minimum of fuss and sighed with intense satisfaction. "Happy now?"

"Yeah. 's all right." Spike wasn't going to give up his sulk so easily. "Bloody faggot."

"No blood. Not if you don't behave." Wesley slapped Spike's hip, just hard enough to sting his hand. He began to move, riding the length of Spike's cock easily and wrapped his fingers loosely around his cock as it jerked with his movements. It was becoming difficult to elucidate clearly. "Of course, if you want to assist in any way..."

"Well, let go of it then." Spike brushed Wesley's hand away and began to milk his cock with an expertise and enthusiasm that belied all his homophobic posturing. "Can't keep your bloody hands off yourself, you ponce."

Wesley was beyond caring about Spike's insults. He leaned forward, alternately thrusting into Spike's hand and back onto his cock. By supporting himself on his hands he was able to alter the angle so that Spike's cock pressed against his prostate on nearly every thrust and his higher cortical functions were beginning to suffer as a result.

Shimmering pleasure spread a glow of heat from his groin up into his belly. His movements became increasingly jerky and uncontrolled as Spike thrashed beneath him, howling. Wesley flung his head back and joined in the general cacophony as milky jets of semen splattered across Spike's heaving belly.

*

"Mmn, not bad." Spike's voice seemed a little indistinct; then Wesley realised he was talking around his fingers. "Did you have Chardonnay with your lunch?"

Wesley stared at him in disbelief until the cocky expression became defensive. "What? I thought you liked it when his High Poofiness did that sniffing thing."

"It was cute on  _him_." Wesley smiled lazily, too replete to object to Spike's continued belittling of his grand-sire. "And no, it was a Riesling."

"With smoked chicken salad?" Spike licked the last of Wesley's spunk off his fingers. "Wanker."

He'd been right about the salad,  _and_  the Chardonnay. Wesley laughed. "Never mind. Thirsty?"

"Thought you'd never bloody ask."

Wesley ignored Spike's grumbling as he peeled the sterile wrapper off a new scalpel and drew a small line of blood across his wrist. He offered it to the avid vampire and lay back while Spike sucked greedily. There was no danger. The chip ensured that if he made even the smallest sound of pain, Spike would end up with a massive headache. 

Wesley smiled. The slight loss of blood always induced a pleasant buzz, not unlike the effects of a glass or two of wine, and it felt good to hold a cool, heavy body in his arms again. He stroked down the length of Spike's back and up. If he closed his eyes he could imagine it was Angel in his arms. At least until Spike started talking again. It would have to do.

 

 


End file.
